World of Warcraft®

Snow fell from the sky rapidly, swirling down in gusts and blanketing the ground as a shimmering sea of white. Even though it was still in the season of harvest, the altitude of the Khaz Mountains kept the region in a state of perpetual ice and snow.

Meriste drew in her arms, tucking them into the warmth and comfort of her furs, and wondered how the dwarves could stand living in a place so cold. Breath escaped her lips and formed soft clouds in the cold air, immediately swept away by the wind which persistently whistled past her ears. She could barely hear the steady crunching of the snow beneath her talbuk’s hooves; She’ahu padded along beside her in silence. Listening to the howling wind, the huntress mused on the last time she had ventured into the wilds of Dun Morogh.

The days of her squirehood seemed so long ago now. It was along this same path that she began her pilgrimage with her sister at her side. How young they both had been, with fresh faces and eyes bright with wonder! Even the snow and winds had seemed gentler, urging them forward and carrying the echoes of their laughter high into the mountains. The memory of their conversations brought a warm smile to Meriste’s lips, but the smile faded as a sudden gust of wind rushed past her, stinging her skin.

Meriste pulled her cloak up around her nose and lips, shielding her features from the harsh wind. Mira would’ve been able to do something about that, she thought. The winds had seemed to listen to her, somehow, perhaps even follow her. Meriste rubbed her temples, fighting the constant headache that had developed over the past months. Mira would’ve been able to do something about that, too; whatever she had done before had worked for a while. The headaches had returned, however, and the wind and the cold were making it worse. Meriste pressed onward, closing her eyes and doing her best to ignore the pain. Although she could not see the nightstalker at her hooves, she could feel She’ahu’s piercing golden-yellow eyes staring up at her. She couldn’t wait for the comforting warmth of a fire.

The falling snow began to yield and the path leading to the dwarven city of Ironforge emerged from the deep drifts. Shielding her eyes from the wind, Meriste looked up to see the great gates towering high above her. It wouldn’t be far now, she thought, and urged the talbuk forward.

The talbuk handled the incline with ease, hooves delicately navigating ledges of ice and stone. As she approached the city, the wind eased away somewhat and Meriste could hear the clamorous cries of revelers and pilgrims on the road ahead.

It was the time of the Harvest Festival, a celebration in honor of the great sacrifices made by the heroes of Azeroth. Many people gathered from around the world to share in family and friendship, to feast together under the light of the harvest moon, surrounded by the warmth of massive bonfires. Each year, pilgrims traveled the long road from Dun Morogh to the Western Plaguelands in honor of the human hero Uther the Lightbringer.

It was on this road that Meriste had undertaken her Trial of Faith. With war looming ominously on the horizon, she knew that she would need all of the guidance the Light had to offer. If she could find guidance, it would be on this road, where she had discovered so much of herself. She returned, seeking to find herself again.

The spinning gears surrounding the tunnel entrance into the Deeprun Tram caught Amalie’s attention and for a moment she stood transfixed by the sheer size and complexity of the mechanical contraption. Slowly, she pulled her eyes away and walked into the district of Tinker Town, drinking in the details of her surroundings.

Simply incredible.

She had read about the ancient city of Ironforge in many of her books, but now that Amalie was seeing the city for herself for the very first time, she made a mental note that none of them had really captured the essence of its majesty. Maybe she would try her hand at it later.

In her rapt attention to the minor details, Amalie failed to notice a gnome hurrying through with a cart stacked high with crates of bronze tubes. She walked right into him as he passed, spilling her belongings and the contents of his cart everywhere. A crate broke open and the clamor of metal rolling over the ground echoed against the walls, filling the air with sound.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” The gnome peered up at her through his goggles with disapproval, extravagant green mustache twitching as his lips curled into a frown. Despite his small stature, he bristled with fury, arms crossed in a fierce stance. Amalie stared for a moment before finally collecting her composure.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir.” She blushed, reaching down to pick up the tubes and stack them in her arms. “Let me help you.”

The gnome sighed, staring at the young woman appraisingly for a moment, and shook his head. He picked up a crate and placed it back on the cart. “You should be more careful.”

Amalie smiled sheepishly. “I know. I apologize sincerely.” She stacked the tubes carefully in the broken crate and set it on top of the other crates. A series of huge pistons sliding up and down caught her eye and she looked up, watching them. Mostly to herself, she added, “This is my first time in the city.”

“What brings you to Ironforge?”

Having picked up all of the stray tubes and the fallen crates, Amalie knelt to pick up her belongings. A number of old books had fallen out of her bag along with a spool of thread and a pincushion full of needles, all of which she quickly scooped up and tucked away with a cheerful smile. “I’m here to see the Harvest Festival for myself.”

“Let me see your map.”

Amalie opened her bag and pulled out a weathered map, handing it over to the gnome, who unrolled the parchment and began to point out various things.

“You’ll want to take a left and pass through the Military Ward into the Commons. From there, the Gates of Ironforge will be on your left. The feasting tables are through the gates, not far from the city.” He cleared his throat and jabbed his finger at the faded paper. “You should seek lodging here in the Commons. Make sure you see the Great Forge before you leave.” Noticing the spine of a book poking out of her bag, he pointed to a large hall. “...and the Hall of Explorers. The Library is quite impressive.”

At the mention of a library, Amalie’s expression brightened into a wide smile. She pushed a stray caramel-brown curl away from her face and shook the gnome’s hand with exuberance, turning to hurry away. The gnome gave her a puzzled stare, twisting one end of his mustache between two fingers. Amalie looked over her shoulder and laughed.

“Thank you!”

Amalie hurried, her feet carrying her forward as if a light wind were nipping at her heels. As she walked, she stared open-mouthed at the impressive stone-hewn halls and dwellings of the Military Ward. The bustle of the city, of travelers and citizens alike, surrounded her and filled her up with warmth.

She had a feeling that, no matter what happened next, it would become an adventure she would never forget.

---
Meriste and Mira huddled together, cloaks drawn snugly over their shoulders. A great table was laid out before them with magnificent silver platters, each one full of food - massive roasted boars; succulent, tender cuts of baked fish; fresh bread, still warm from the ovens; a selection of fine fruits and vegetables - the bounty was a marvel to behold. A bowl of bright red apples caught Meriste's eye and her stomach rumbled. She looked over at Mira, nudging her gently with an elbow.

"We should eat before going out on the road - it's a long way from here to the Western Plaguelands.”

Mira giggled, then glanced over at the table and pointed out the apples. “I think I know what you have your eye on.”

Meriste laughed, grinning widely. “Was it that obvious...?” She rubbed her stomach. “Well...I still think it’s a good idea. She’ahu has her eye on that fish, I think. You know how cats are when they’re hungry.”

She’ahu had not strayed from Meriste’s side, but her eyes were fixed on her prey. A platter of fish lay just at the edge of the table, the smell tantalizing. She glanced pleadingly - perhaps demandingly - at Meriste, then at Mira. When the two continued talking, she yawned loudly and butted against Meriste’s leg as if to make a point. Meriste reached down to scratch behind She’ahu’s ear.

“All right, all right. You’re hungry too. Let’s go.”

The two young women giggled, sitting down at the table to share a meal. Meriste looked around, thanking the Light for the many blessings she had been given. The road had not always been happy; for all Draenei, the road had been stained with the bitterness of blood and tears. But now, after all the pain, her family was made whole and new again. She had purpose. As she gave thanks for the bounty before her and shared the delicious food with Mira, they conversed together in Draenic, bright laughter echoing in the chilly morning air.
---

Meriste rubbed her temples, her brow furrowed as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. The headaches were incessant, a constant pressure that seemed to bore right through her skull and interrupt her thoughts. She tried to remember when they had started. Some months ago, surely, but she couldn’t pin down an event or cause. None of the healers had been able to find anything physically wrong with her. Meriste had been given the standard prescription: drink more fluids, make sure to get enough sleep, and take measures to relieve stress. Some things helped, but the source remained untreated. Her frustration grew more and more as the headaches increased in intensity. Even the accuracy of her arrows, normally keen, was suffering. How could she protect anyone if she could not focus in battle?

The food on her plate was growing cold, but Meriste had lost her appetite. The warmth of the bonfires and the laughter of children playing in the snow - things that normally would have brought her immense joy - offered no comfort. News of many things had reached Meriste’s ears, but her thoughts were fractured and scattered. The destruction of Theramore; vicious and bloody battles with the Horde all over Azeroth; the discovery of a mysterious, uncharted land and an even stranger people. Now more than ever, the Presidium needed her resolve and steady aim. The Holy Guard prepared for war; many of the Silent Guard had already left on reconnaissance missions. She should have been out there with them. Instead, she was here, trying to regain her focus.

“Pascal, NO!”

A shout and a low, threatening growl drew Meriste out of her thoughts. She stood, drawing an arrow from her quiver and holding her bow at the ready. She’ahu stood a few feet away, fur bristling and fangs bared, a half-eaten fish at her paws. Dancing just a few inches from the fish was a sprite darter hatchling. It seemed to be trying to snatch the fish away from She’ahu, playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Its fluttering wings shimmered with mesmerizing light reflected off of the snow.

“Pascal!”

A human woman ran up and dropped to her knees, wrapping her arms around the tiny creature. Less than a second later, She’ahu had her pinned to the ground, fangs poised over her throat.

Amalie gazed into a pair of golden eyes as deep as they were fierce, transfixed by the intensity of the nightstalker’s stare. A real nightstalker, just like the elves’ companions...and so close! But perhaps a little smaller; she couldn’t say for sure. Its fur was as black as the darkest night, streaked with stripes of silver. Amalie could feel its warm breath against the skin of her neck and the crushing weight of its paws on her chest. Points of sharp claws pressed painfully into her skin, but she barely noticed. All she could do was to stare upwards into the golden eyes, completely still.

What are you waiting for?

“She’ahu. Soran raka.”

Although the nightstalker eased away, its piercing golden eyes remained fixed on Amalie, challenging her to make a sudden move. As the weight lifted from Amalie’s body, she drew in a trembling breath and slowly sat upright in the snow. The nightstalker returned to the side of a tall, dark-skinned draenei woman. In her attempt to keep Pascal out of trouble, Amalie had completely failed to notice the woman sitting at the table.

Don't miss the forest for the trees, Mother always said. I guess it's true. Pascal scampered up Amalie's arm and perched on her shoulder, chittering angrily.

"Hush, Pascal."

Amalie rose to her feet and brushed the snow from her robe, then looked up at the draenei. “Tall” was an understatement, she realized; the woman was at least two heads taller. Midnight blue and gold chainmail, sturdy yet elegant on her form, glinted in the fading sunset. A white tabard bore the mark of a golden cross. Is she a knight? The woman lowered her bow, pointing the arrow at the ground beneath her hooves.

“I apologize. She does not normally react in such a way. Still, you should be more careful...wild animals are unpredictable.”

Amalie looked up at the woman's face. Her skin was a deep, dark blue, almost black at the tips of her horns. Her features, while exotic, were inviting; despite her guarded expression, Amalie could feel warmth in her eyes. The glowing white eyes were fixed on her now.

"What is your name?"

Oops. I'm staring again. She'll think I'm rude. "...Amalie, m'lady. My name is Amalie." She dropped her eyes, blushing furiously and chiding herself over and over again in her mind. You know better than to stare.

To her surprise, the woman started to laugh. Amalie looked up again, listening. Her laughter was like music, gentle and melodic. For a moment, Amalie could see the weariness fade away from the woman's features. The light in her eyes spoke of happiness and freedom, washing away all of Amalie’s apprehension.

"Please, just call me Meriste. Or Meri, if you like.”

Amalie smiled, repeating the name to herself. “...Meri. Nice to meet you.” She looked down at the nightstalker at Meriste’s side. “Who is this?”

Meriste knelt down in the snow, running her fingers through the nightstalker’s dark fur. “This is She’ahu.” In response to her name, the cat turned and rubbed her cheek against Meriste’s outstretched hand.

“She’ahu.” Amalie tasted the foreign word on her tongue. “What does that mean?”

“It is only a loose translation, but in the common tongue it means something close to ‘storm fighter.’” Meriste paused, rubbing behind She’ahu’s ears. “I found her as a cub, the only one left alive of her litter. A storm trapped both of us in the wilds of Azuremyst for a night and two days. She captured me with her eyes and has been my constant companion ever since.”

Captured me with her eyes. Amalie looked down into the nightstalker’s eyes. They were fixed on her once again, this time as if asking a question. Amalie’s gaze shifted to Meriste. I think I understand.

“And...who is this?” Meriste pointed.

Amalie looked over to the sprite darter perched on her shoulder and giggled. “...oh! This is Pascal. He is trouble, always getting into something.” Pascal flickered his wings indignantly at being called “trouble,” then leaped up to the top of her head to make a nest of her caramel curls.

“...hey! Stop it, Pascal! You know it’s true...”

No matter how quickly she moved her hands trying to catch the sprite darter, Amalie was always just a little too slow; Pascal bounced from shoulder to shoulder, fluttering in the air and finally landing on top of Meriste’s head with a triumphant chirp. This perch was certainly too high for Amalie’s reach, and for the cat’s as well.

The music of Meriste’s laughter rang in the air for a moment before it suddenly stopped, leaving the echo to fade into the night sky with the mingling sounds of the other revelers nearby. She stood still for a moment before sinking into her seat at the table, face twisted into an expression of pain. She reached up and clutched the sides of her head, rubbing her temples.

“...Meriste? Are you all right?”

Amalie approached cautiously, gently placing her fingertips on Meriste’s forehead. She closed her eyes and reached out to the Light to ask for relief, but quickly snatched her hand back when a sudden jolt of pain shot up her arm and into the joint of her shoulder. Amalie stared in surprise for a moment, flexing her fingers.

What was that...?

Amalie reached out to try again, but Meriste quickly pushed Amalie’s hand away and rose from her chair, eyes still tightly shut. Her expression eased into one of relief after a few moments, but Amalie could still feel a lingering sense of pain in the way she looked out into the distance.

It is almost as if she is somewhere far away.

Both sat in silence for a few minutes before Meriste finally spoke.

“I am here for the Harvest Festival. I came seeking answers...seeking relief. I traveled this road for my first pilgrimage, to honor the virtues of the order I serve and to discover myself. Over the past few months, I’ve again found myself with more questions than answers.” She paused for a moment. “If I will find answers, it must be here.”

Amalie looked up into Meriste’s eyes, considering her words. She considered the reasons why she herself had come to Ironforge and what she had hoped to find there. It didn’t take Amalie long to decide.

“Then I am coming with you.”